Contrary to the title of this post, the day hadn't commenced with a pleasant lunch of ramen.
My commute had taken an absolutely frightening turn upon the realization that a mentally unstable, skateboard-wielding homeless had boarded the SkyTrain at some point during the trip. The fact that Translink had failed to enforce sufficient security on the train was evident as the filth-covered man hiked up and down the aisles with cardboard signage, requesting funds to continue sustaining his current lifestyle.
All was peaceful until the brief moment between King Edward and Broadway City Hall. While travelling through the quietest point of the underground tunnel, the man suddenly broke down. He began yelling and swearing (at who knows what), and even began throwing things. Given that he was standing no further than 2 metres from me in diagonal distance, I was thoroughly experiencing shivers each time his tantrums escalated in severity. No one had dared to budge even an inch from their original positions.
It was also of extreme concern to me that he was blocking my closest exit and that I would need to disembark at the next station. In fear that he was going to lash out at the first person he saw move, I scurried to next closest platform door as rapidly as possible once I caught a glimpse of his head being turned away from my direction. Running up the stairs and through the fare gates, I made sure to not turn back until I had safely made my exit. Phew.
If there's any aspect of a proper public transportation service that Translink executes correctly, it's definitely not passenger safety and security. Never had I felt such immense vulnerability in my life while commuting.
My commute had taken an absolutely frightening turn upon the realization that a mentally unstable, skateboard-wielding homeless had boarded the SkyTrain at some point during the trip. The fact that Translink had failed to enforce sufficient security on the train was evident as the filth-covered man hiked up and down the aisles with cardboard signage, requesting funds to continue sustaining his current lifestyle.
All was peaceful until the brief moment between King Edward and Broadway City Hall. While travelling through the quietest point of the underground tunnel, the man suddenly broke down. He began yelling and swearing (at who knows what), and even began throwing things. Given that he was standing no further than 2 metres from me in diagonal distance, I was thoroughly experiencing shivers each time his tantrums escalated in severity. No one had dared to budge even an inch from their original positions.
It was also of extreme concern to me that he was blocking my closest exit and that I would need to disembark at the next station. In fear that he was going to lash out at the first person he saw move, I scurried to next closest platform door as rapidly as possible once I caught a glimpse of his head being turned away from my direction. Running up the stairs and through the fare gates, I made sure to not turn back until I had safely made my exit. Phew.
If there's any aspect of a proper public transportation service that Translink executes correctly, it's definitely not passenger safety and security. Never had I felt such immense vulnerability in my life while commuting.
By the time I had met up with my friend, a local who had temporarily moved to the East Coast for academic purposes, I was intensely shaken and desired nothing more than the caress of a familiar face. (Yes, it had been that horrendous of an experience.)
We wanted to shift our focus elsewhere, preferably to food in the nearby area.
Alas, I hadn't realized that I forgotten my SD card in the slot reader of my laptop until we found ourselves at the storefront. My friend was kind, not even minding to trek an extra few blocks to Broadway Camera with me to purchase a backup card.
We wanted to shift our focus elsewhere, preferably to food in the nearby area.
Alas, I hadn't realized that I forgotten my SD card in the slot reader of my laptop until we found ourselves at the storefront. My friend was kind, not even minding to trek an extra few blocks to Broadway Camera with me to purchase a backup card.
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When we finally made our return to Benkei, it was observed that the ramen joint had completely filled with patrons - reasonably so, considering that it was now lunchtime. Thankfully, we were seated after a very brief wait.
My dining partner-in-crime, knowing me to be the "planner" type, had bestowed me with complete control of the day's munching locations. I had decided upon Benkei Ramen for lunch, with the main reason being that the greatness of their Gyoza and Chashu Onigiri had remained vivid in one of my distant memories.
My dining partner-in-crime, knowing me to be the "planner" type, had bestowed me with complete control of the day's munching locations. I had decided upon Benkei Ramen for lunch, with the main reason being that the greatness of their Gyoza and Chashu Onigiri had remained vivid in one of my distant memories.
It's been well over four years since the last time I was brought to any Benkei location, so I wasn't entirely sure of the exact coordinates of the shop I had visited previously. Upon our entry though, I was convinced that the Broadway location was not the same one: it was narrower and much smaller, with some tables jutting directly into the main pathway. The seats weren't bulky enough to pose as a potential fire hazard, though could have been easily tripped over if not careful.
Service was also several notches less friendly than I recall. Even during the lunch rush, a loud Japanese "Welcome!" soared over the voices of hungry customers at their old Thurlow spot. But this wasn't the case here at all: even waitresses had rather unenthusiastic demeanours when taking orders.
Service was also several notches less friendly than I recall. Even during the lunch rush, a loud Japanese "Welcome!" soared over the voices of hungry customers at their old Thurlow spot. But this wasn't the case here at all: even waitresses had rather unenthusiastic demeanours when taking orders.
Space was tremendously limited for the most part. A two-person table could barely fit our orders, and all bags were to be shoved into the cubbie spot in our backless wooden seats. I suppose it was rather intuitive considering that the holed out sections of the rectangular blocks of wood weren't accessible from the backside (unlike Kinton), but I ended up clutching my backpack on my lap for the entirety of the meal since it simply didn't fit lengthwise.
< Pictured above and below: Shio Ramen, Pork Gyoza, and Chashu Onigiri >
Interestingly enough, Benkei's steamy bowls of ramen had never been my top choice even when on previous Vancouver visits. Perhaps the portion size was just too large for my liking, or perhaps I had never found a distinguishable enough element to persuade me to trying it again. Regardless, the sole bowl of ramen on our table - Shio (or "sea salt") - wasn't particularly fascinating. Bamboo shoots, green onions, half-cooked bean sprouts, and two tender pieces of ramen chashu floated atop the murky beige broth, all of which were toppings that retained their individual flavours well. With the exception that the chashu was nowhere near Santouka's toroniku, I enjoyed them, but not to an immense degree.
The disappointment actually lay in the ramen base itself: a lacklustre broth and limp, not-so-springy noodles was a poor combination.
Interestingly enough, Benkei's steamy bowls of ramen had never been my top choice even when on previous Vancouver visits. Perhaps the portion size was just too large for my liking, or perhaps I had never found a distinguishable enough element to persuade me to trying it again. Regardless, the sole bowl of ramen on our table - Shio (or "sea salt") - wasn't particularly fascinating. Bamboo shoots, green onions, half-cooked bean sprouts, and two tender pieces of ramen chashu floated atop the murky beige broth, all of which were toppings that retained their individual flavours well. With the exception that the chashu was nowhere near Santouka's toroniku, I enjoyed them, but not to an immense degree.
The disappointment actually lay in the ramen base itself: a lacklustre broth and limp, not-so-springy noodles was a poor combination.
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The memory is a tad vague, but still distinguishable: Chashu Onigiri and Gyoza were two side dishes that had piqued my interest (and tastebuds) when we had last dropped by Benkei. I ordered both without a second thought, brimming with the hope that they had resisted the change of time with unwavering quality.
It brought me great sadness to conclude that neither was executed to the quality that I had recalled.
It brought me great sadness to conclude that neither was executed to the quality that I had recalled.
Few bits of marinated pork were to be found in the Chashu Onigiri, along with a significant lack of flavour in the rice ball overall. Should my memory serve me correctly, the two-piece appetizer/side was extremely flavourful with a gently charred surface, albeit a bit greasy for my liking. Although the shiny finish had somewhat vanished, the same marinade combination was nowhere to be tasted.
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The Pork Gyoza also emerged to be a narrow platter consisting of five, shrunken pan-fried dumplings. They weren't of the frozen variety, thankfully, but the pieces weren't nearly as gourmet as they could have been. Tiny, greasy little things they were indeed; the soy-vinegar dipping sauce managed to cut the grease a little, but the thick, dry wrapper wasn't about to impress anyone. And neither were the prices.
Even after several rounds of ramen house-hopping, it seems that Hakata remains undefeated, in terms of gyoza anyway.
Even after several rounds of ramen house-hopping, it seems that Hakata remains undefeated, in terms of gyoza anyway.
We later began touring shops in the vicinity, only to find many of the retailers to cater towards an upper middle- to high-class spending range. Knitted dolls priced at seventy-five each were not exactly our cup of tea.
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The day was becoming increasingly warm, so we opted to head towards a spot close to our final destination in Richmond. We settled for tea - bubble tea, that is.
From the insurmountable shots of extravagant egg waffle and slushie creations on Instagram, one would think The Bubble Tea Shop would be a leisurely cafe with delicate interior decor.
But it was hidden right in the parking lot of the Real Canadian Superstore. Nestled between layers of dust bunny-esque insulation and neighbouring dry cleaning shops was an awkwardly situated diner with a flickering black and white sign.
But it was hidden right in the parking lot of the Real Canadian Superstore. Nestled between layers of dust bunny-esque insulation and neighbouring dry cleaning shops was an awkwardly situated diner with a flickering black and white sign.
A portion of their offerings were plastered outside the rickety wooden doors in laminated sleeves, while the rest of their overpriced selections were displayed on several LED boards hoisted inside the establishment.
Despite the shabby choice of location, neither drinks nor egg waffles were particularly affordable here. Custom creation waffles were ever-so-costly at $8.00, while all beverages were priced at a minimum of five dollar before tax. (Yikes!)
Despite the shabby choice of location, neither drinks nor egg waffles were particularly affordable here. Custom creation waffles were ever-so-costly at $8.00, while all beverages were priced at a minimum of five dollar before tax. (Yikes!)
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I chose one of the "specials" - a large Grapefruit Green Tea. Actually, it wasn't a Large; there was only one size to choose from. After specifying my preference for minimal amount of sugar syrup (and reluctantly forking over an unjustifiable $5.24), I waltzed over to the condiment bar/water counter. It was pretty organized, considering that the entire staff consisted of two questionable-looking high school students.
Beside this counter was a glass case filled with emoji pillows (for sale?), then an old-fashioned arcade machine. Directly adjacent to this piece of ancient equipment was the bathroom: a poorly-lit single stall with an absence of hooks and abundance of filth. An ominous cloud hung in the air. "Could it get any worse?" I thought.
Beside this counter was a glass case filled with emoji pillows (for sale?), then an old-fashioned arcade machine. Directly adjacent to this piece of ancient equipment was the bathroom: a poorly-lit single stall with an absence of hooks and abundance of filth. An ominous cloud hung in the air. "Could it get any worse?" I thought.
My drink emerged on the other side of the counter, thrust forward by a sweatpants-donning male figure with spiky hair and an adolescent appearance. He probably looked about sixteen years old - the age where teens embark on the journey of job-hunting and become acquainted with laziness.
In all fairness, the drink wasn't bad at all. Icy and refreshing, the sealed plastic cup provided the two elements deemed necessary after an afternoon of walking in the sun. I suppose it wasn't until the I spotted my friend's receipt that I gradually became bitter.
In all fairness, the drink wasn't bad at all. Icy and refreshing, the sealed plastic cup provided the two elements deemed necessary after an afternoon of walking in the sun. I suppose it wasn't until the I spotted my friend's receipt that I gradually became bitter.
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It's common knowledge that flavoured black and green teas are one of the most economical beverages at bubble tea joints due to their simple method of concoction and lack of ingredients, while slushies and smoothies tend to be the priciest due to the high level of intensity involved to create them. That being said, it didn't take me longer than five seconds to begin shaking my head in outrage at the fact that a "real fruit berry smoothie" had been priced lower than a measly cup of syrup-based green tea.
To make matters worse, I later realized that my fault at failing to specify an amount of ice in my drink: exactly one third of the cup was filled with ice!
To make matters worse, I later realized that my fault at failing to specify an amount of ice in my drink: exactly one third of the cup was filled with ice!
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And did I mention their painstakingly slow Wi-Fi? Perhaps I should draw attention to their stained walls and severe lack of outlets as well.
I mean, the location was already horrid enough. The spot is inconvenient for commuters, and even worse for drivers due to a lack of parking spots.
I mean, the location was already horrid enough. The spot is inconvenient for commuters, and even worse for drivers due to a lack of parking spots.
We didn't order egg waffles - why would we, now full knowing the state of their food preparation area?
The main purpose of this side excursion was to re-hydrate and recharge my phone. Once both of the goals had been attained, we moved onto our final destination of the day, with the addition of a special guest.
Continuing reading about Snowy Village in Part 2!
Continuing reading about Snowy Village in Part 2!
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